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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319718">Ginger Martinis and Rainbow Suspenders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed'>bossxtweed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Other, ThoscheiLockdown2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:46:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt involved the Doctor and the Master getting drunk at a political function... I tried to make it a bit lighthearted and silly!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Thoschei Lockdown The First 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ginger Martinis and Rainbow Suspenders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticaltorque/gifts">mysticaltorque</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It felt wrong to attend this event when she knew the prime minister-designate would shortly be removed from power due to one ruinous comment, even though the spiky-haired pinstripe lover had stood firm in his denouncement, and the action weighed heavily on the Doctor’s conscience as she entered the gala.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A large banner hung over the room’s stage with ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ written out in bold print.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was progressive, cared for the people, and had helped during a crisis, and she mingled now in a room full of tuxedos and sparkling dresses, her own ensemble appearing conservative in stark contrast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to Ms. Jones, her successor mingled amongst the crowd, consuming ginger martinis at an alarming rate. He wore a black tuxedo--it wasn’t yet the time to show himself off--and had a rose pinned carelessly to his coat, as if it were the suit jacket of an angsty teenager getting ready to attend their school’s prom. Words slurred from his lips as he addressed a young blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tha’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>suits </span>
  </em>
  <span>you…”  he burst out laughing at his own pun as she spun around, clad in a black and white tuxedo with a rainbow bow-tie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of her lips curled upwards; she was partial to puns in this body, or at least she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be, and she sauntered over to him with her hands in her pockets and stood feet shoulder-width apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it? Tha’s good to hear -- I should wear suits more often, but then I’d wear out my formalwear, what with how active--” She quieted as his gaze roamed over her body, and she stood firm even as he leaned closer, the scent of ginger and liquor wafting from his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I know you?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” the corners of her lips curled upward and she shook her head. “Nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>young, </em>
  </b>
  <span>she thought, moving now in a circle around him, able to meet him eye-to-eye due to hidden lifts in her shoes (which weren’t the most comfortable, but she’d been feeling uneasy about her height that morning; she missed being able to reach the top shelves in the TARDIS wardrobe and had struggled to reach her bowtie and suspenders, and she’d tumbled into a pile of pants on the floor). Her thoughts shifted briefly---</span>
  <em>
    <span>what if he had learned about her in </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>this</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> incarnation, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and simply kept it to himself for all those centuries?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think too much,” he told her as she stopped beside him.</span>
</p><p><span>“Sometimes, yeah. But, </span><em><span>come on,”</span></em><span> she watched as he took two glasses from a passing waiter, one of which he handed over to her, “do ya </span><b><em>really</em></b> <span>not recognize me?”</span></p><p>
  <span>He pulled a small vial from within his coat and poured a small amount into both of their glasses. Noticing the shift in her expression, he explained, “ginger. We Time Lords can’t get drunk on the regular stuff, </span>
  <em>
    <span>eh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rani?” he nudged her with his elbow and laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Static --- </span>
  </em>
  <span>the rustling of a microphone when someone stands too close, then the awful echoing tap as an individual tried to grab everyone’s attention, before their voice echoed through the room, stating, “Now, let’s hear from our newly designated Prime Minister!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harriet Jones stepped up to the podium and began to speak, first thanking the room for showing their support before going into her plan for the future. The Master’s attention remained fixed on the Doctor and she turned to him, one brow quirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a coat cupboard near the entrance; it’s unmanned and very few people have been leaving early---they all seem to </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harriet Jones.” and, if she were to admit it to herself, the Doctor </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>loved Harriet, and perhaps before the end of the night she’d apologize, </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly </span>
  </em>
  <span>apologize, for what would happen in a few short years.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re both ghosts, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought sadly, downing her drink before grabbing another from a passing waitress and downing that one, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And he thinks I’m someone else…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Koschei…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she whispered, leaning forward until mere inches existed between them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, you’ve got this… It’s </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>me.”</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>His brown eyes widened and a bemused smile broke across his lips and he exclaimed, loud enough to earn glares from those standing nearby, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Oh!</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> Theta, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>you…</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he leaned closer, inhaling the scent of smoke and earth which clung to her--it was as if she’d been out camping, with a warm fire roaring in front of her and dirt caked beneath her fingernails, and had only </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>cleaned up to attend this gala. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’ haven’t answered me yet, Kosch’. Coatroom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You. Me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>perhaps</span>
  </em>
  <span> a few more of those ginger martinis….” she took his hand and led him to where the waitstaff had laid out platters of finger food and glasses of drinks and grabbed a platter of martinis before leading him to the coat room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten glasses…” the Master mused, pouring a small amount of ginger into each one. “Ten glasses, ginger, and the two---” out of the corner of his eye he saw the Doctor shrugging off her coat, revealing rainbow stripes stretching over both of her shoulders, and he nearly dropped his glass at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doc---</span>
  <em>
    <span>Theta,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he breathed, reaching out with both hands to grab her suspenders and pull her closer. ‘This new look </span>
  <em>
    <span>really suits you…” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised one finger to his lips, shushing him gently. “Don’t move too fast, Kosch’. Drinks first, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>we can have a bit of fun.” She stepped back and took up a glass in each hand, and without missing a beat she downed both of her drinks while keeping her gaze fixed on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling suddenly warm, the Master took up a glass of his own, sipped, then put it down and again reached for her suspenders, pulling her flush against him, his head spinning from the scent of smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him tenderly, though beneath it lay a burning hunger, and her hands drifted down to unbutton his coat which he shrugged off, but her hands had already worked their way through his shirt buttons, then back up to his tie, undoing the black fabric before pressing a line of kisses down his neck, stopping at his collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The---</span>
  <em>
    <span>Theta….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back after a moment and undid her braces, letting them hang loosely off her waist, then undid the first few buttons of her dress shirt, revealing a comfortable black sports bra (she couldn’t wear regular ones---they were stabby and hindered her running, and she’d quickly learned that wearing a binder all of the time was even </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so she’d settled on the sports bra as a compromise to the painful alternatives). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know,” she slurred, taking up another glass. “I forgot how </span>
  <em>
    <span>chubby</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are in this face… those </span>
  <b>
    <em>cheeks!...” </em>
  </b>
  <span>she squished his cheek with her free hand and downed her drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drink after drink disappeared and as they went, the mismatched pair of Time Lords fell further into a state of undress; first his shirt came off, then the buttons of hers were undone, then, hesitantly, he reached for her bowtie and slowly pulled it loose, his hearts pounding that four beat rhythm, his breath coming in short gasps. His lips met her neck and she moaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them expected the new prime minister herself to enter the room, and they wouldn’t have noticed her had she not cleared her throat---they were blocking her jacket with their bodies, and besides, they’d snuck off right as she’d started speaking, and she’d noted that mark of disrespect, having decided to tell them off before realizing how </span>
  <em>
    <span>young </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were and granting them this indiscretion. Taking the last ginger martini, she raised it in a toast and downed it before grabbing her coat and nodding.</span>
</p><p><span>“Thank you for your support,” she told them, setting the glass down, “and I’m </span><b><em>so</em></b> <span>sorry for interrupting,” with flushed cheeks she left.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Embarrassing the prime minister… Bet you haven’t done </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>before,” the Master told her, his own cheeks flushed from the alcohol. The only item of clothing left on him were his fuchsia boxers and the Doctor couldn’t help but giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
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